


Club Seriph

by riverofmusic10



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverofmusic10/pseuds/riverofmusic10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Snippet:</em> A trip home following a routine case turns out to be more complicated than either John or Sherlock expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club Seriph

“Brilliant.”

John muttered a curse under his breath as he quickly exited the cab. He squinted in the light mist as he took out a wad of bills from his pocket and counted out the amount blaring in red on the cabbie’s dashboard. The street lights gave an eerie glow to the quiet street, the air doused in a mist that put a chilled rush to his movements.

“…3, 4…5 pounds. There you are. Thank you.” John said quickly as he handed the man the money, giving him a short nod before moving behind the short car and beginning a jog down the adjacent alleyway. A dark figure was walking away in the same direction, and John muttered another curse before picking up his pace.

“Sherlock, would you not continue on without me like that? It’s a ruddy nuisance.” John said irritably as he finally fell into pace beside the taller man, his arms pumping to assist with maintaining the detective’s particularly fast pace. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Mrs. Hudson requested we bring her an item from a shop near the flat.” Sherlock said, the lower half of his face shielded by his collar as his eyes remained directly on the end of the alleyway. “The case took us 10 minutes longer than expected – it’s nearly closing time.”

“Long- longer than expected?” John demanded in disbelief, scoffing with a laugh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh right because you can estimate when a man will have a stroke now, and also when he’ll be available for questioning in the ICU. Brilliant, Sherlock.”

“You’re a doctor, John, you should be able to tell the signs.” Sherlock said as they continued on down the alleyway. 

“Well excuse me for not putting him through tests; I was a little busy looking at how many typical symptoms he _didn’t_ have.” 

Sherlock scoffed lightly. “The footage clearly demonstrated decreased strength, most particularly in his right arm. Come John, you should know this.”

“Sherlock, he was seated in his chair during the entire video.”

“And the notes he made then were significantly lighter than others on his desk. Minimal eye droop but noticeable if you know what to look for. At the end of the video his right hand developed a tremor… you probably didn’t notice because he gave up writing and went home shortly after. Come, John, surely you-“

Sherlock’s reply cut short as a click of metal resounded sharply off the alley walls. A hard surface abruptly pressed itself firmly against the back of his head, and John froze simultaneously at his side as the tip of a gun pressed firmly against his head not a half second later. 

Before either could speak, gloved hands sealed themselves over their mouths - pulling them backwards into the shadows of the empty alleyway. John shouted against the gloved hand as they were dragged through a musty metal doorway, but the cold end of a gun pressed warningly to their necks kept them moving.

The hands that led them quickly pulled the men down the short hallway, keeping both tightly in check while they moved. The place was dimly lit at best and smelled of mold and rust, amplified by the rain’s humidity. It was stifling enough that the hands over their mouths were almost a relief. Not 20 paces from the outside door, the one holding John shoved him forward. The doctor stumbled forward as the man quickly passed him, moving to assist the second man in securing Sherlock as they pressed him against a wall.

“HEY!”

The click of a gun stopped John in his tracks as the second man turned with his gun cocked. John held his hands out and remained where he was, his gaze focused on the man who also kept a firm hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. 

“All right-“ John said in a lower, calm voice – cutting off immediately as the man with the gun brandished it threateningly. John raised his hands further at the warning, pursing his lips together while the gun remained aimed directly at his head. 

He remained still even as the first man reached around and tapped second man’s shoulder, nodding to a corner that the second man then gestured to with his weapon. John watched him cautiously before slowly turning his gaze toward small space, where he could barely make out a pile of clothes hidden in the shadows. He frowned slightly before turning back to the man, remaining still until the man gestured even more firmly toward the items.

Slowly John began moved toward the pile, picking up the stack of clothes cautiously before turning back toward the man who watched him. The man motioned toward the pile, and John frowned before glancing around the room and then motioning to the ground. His question was clear, and the answer even more so. The man brandished the gun at him again, and John lifted up a hand before slowly beginning to kneel down with a cautious look at the dark figure. 

The first man, who had been watching from Sherlock’s other side, nodded to the second man and pulled on Sherlock’s jacket – both of them removing it quickly and throwing it to the closest corner. 

“Hey!” John shouted in alarm, rising quickly to his feet before the second man once again brandished the gun at him. Sherlock’s head turned quickly as well even as the first man made quick work of his shirt, his gaze warning the doctor to remain silent. John clenched his jaw as the second man brandished his gun again, pointing threateningly to the pile of clothes on the floor.

John muttered a curse under his breath and paused only for a moment as if considering an alternate. When the man put his finger close to the trigger, however, he finally set his jaw and turned back toward the clothes, shrugging quickly out of his jacket before beginning to remove his shirt as well. The garment followed Sherlock’s into the pile a moment before he picked up the replacement shirt, throwing it over his head before glancing behind him. The men had just finished buttoning up a new shirt they had put on the detective, the second now going to work on his belt. 

A glance from the second man averted John’s gaze, and he reached down to start at his own belt before quickly changing into the new trousers. They were a suspiciously good fit. As was the new jacket, the new socks, and the new shoes.

When he finished tying the last pair of laces, John turned to see the two men releasing the newly-dressed Sherlock and moving to the pile of collected clothes. He predicted what would happen a moment before the flames lit the room, and a prick of anger gnawed at him when he saw the clothing go up in flames. A moment later his eyes found Sherlock, but the detective was focused solely on the two men ahead of them.

“By god…I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

The words of relief came from the first man who had led Sherlock, and John frowned immediately at the sound of the familiar voice. After a moment the man turned toward the two of them, pulling down the scarf that had covered his mouth and nose. Relief and a hint of self-satisfaction reflected in the familiar gray eyes as he looked over at the other dark figure who had pulled their scarf down as well. “I thought we’d be dead men.”

“Wh – Lestrade?” John said in something akin to shocked disbelief, looking over the black-clad detective before turning his gaze to who had turned out to be Anderson, also clad in the same attire. “What in god’s name was that all about? Taking us in here and then trussing us up in these ridiculous clothes? This is the most bloody ridiculous– have you heard of a cell phone?”

Lestrade gave him a cynical half-laugh despite the relief still on his face. “Right. Because I’d risk nabbing Sherlock Holmes and his army doctor over a phone call if given the choice.” He said, looking over at Sherlock next before glancing him over – a slight furrow coming to his eyebrows as he appraised the clothes. “Not bad, actually.” 

“I assume this has a point, Lestrade.” Sherlock said without pause, his gaze steadily fixed on the head of Scotland Yard as the flames danced eerily over them.

“Yes it does, believe me.” Lestrade assured him, looking pointedly at the detective before moving over to the corner where a bottle of water had been stashed. “We had to take care with this one enough that you even probably haven’t heard of it, have you.”

“Heard of what? Seriph?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow at the detective who paused in his tracks just a foot away from the water.

Lestrade slowly closed his eyes. “Don’t bloody tell me…” he said under his breath, pausing with a sigh before picking up the water in defeat. “How the _hell_ could you get that from two jumpsuits and regular everyday clothes?”

Sherlock smiled just slightly, causing John to roll his eyes and let out a breath as he shook his head. 

“Just…go on, Sherlock…”

“Let them tell us about the case, John.”

“No, Sherlock, because the first thing they’ll want to know is what _you_ know.” John said with false patience, giving him a less than genuine smile as the detective glanced at him. “Just…get it over with so they can tell us what the hell is going on-“

“The first indication of course was the time of night and location.” Sherlock began, cutting John off as his gray eyes locked on the two detectives standing across from him. Lestrade watched him with a small gesture of acceptance while Anderson glared expectantly. 

“Close to midnight a block away from Baker Street: close enough to home to intercept us but not close enough for us to be seen or heard if our flat was under any sort of external or internal surveillance. You removed any clothes that could contain listening devices and insisted we do not speak until they were burned. That tells me it was critical to you that your involvement was not noted – not unheard of for the police but not a caution you have yet taken. This is a case even you take seriously. Pulling us aside with care not to be seen or heard and giving us well-fitting if not ill-styled clothes tells me this is more than a clothing replacement – you want us to go undercover: “where”, is the question.

Sherlock turned and motioned to John’s attire. “Both of us are well dressed but with specific brands: John is wearing some of the latest from Marsi Pfanstiel and I from L.J. Winters. These brands are not normally seen on a working man during day hours but during the _night_. Ruling out the need to discern occupation, these clothes are purposefully worn by those who take part in the night life. Most places within walking distance have closed, but we are one block from Baker Street and therefore 5 blocks from Seriph close to midnight on a Saturday – the nearest nightclub whose dress code fits this description.”

Lestrade swallowed as Sherlock began to step forward, slowly lowering his water but maintaining his ground even as the detective came within whispering distance. “Now for the last bit of the puzzle…” Sherlock said in a low voice, carefully watching the detective who tenaciously maintained his gaze. “-’who’… and ‘why’.”

Lestrade was quiet for a moment, looking between the detective’s eyes before slowly nodding in affirmation. “There’s an underground.” He said after a moment, shifting just slightly before looking down and putting the cap back on the bottle. “Something not unlike a brothel that travels from place to place.” He said, moving his eyes once again to Sherlock before glancing at John. “It’s a den of black market thugs that we’ve been trying to hunt down, but they’ve never stayed anywhere long enough for us to get to them.”

“Two of our men made contact, but spooked before actually going inside and getting the information we need.” Anderson continued, looking far from pleased as he looked between the two.

“Their names are Ben and Tony, and we need you to pose as them: find out where these guys are headed next.” Lestrade said, looking from John to Sherlock when the doctor’s face remained void of sympathy. “This might be the last time we have their location for this long. The head guy’s name is Anthony Bartel. A real bugger, and a genius in his own right if all this moving around is his idea. If we get him in he’ll be able to answer a lot of questions about how he keeps giving us the slip.”

“And just why do you need us to do it when you’ve got a whole team of specialist sitting at Scotland Yard?” John asked, looking between Lestrade and Anderson who both turned their gazes to him. “We just finished with a case. Maybe, just _maybe_ …we’re tired.”

“We’ll take the case.” Sherlock said, keeping his eyes on Lestrade even when John’s eyes flashed toward him.

“Exc – no. No, no – don’t you ‘we’ me into this Sherlock,” John said warningly, turning toward the detective who had finally turned to glance back at him. “I just lost my favorite pair of trousers at gunpoint for a case I didn’t agree to, and I reserve the right to say ‘no’ if I damn well please.” 

“John, please – we didn’t mean for it to be this way but we had no choice.” Lestrade said, extending his hands out in apology as he looked at the doctor. “The minute we walked in the flat Sherlock would have deduced and spilled our motives. Dragging him somewhere quiet-“

“That’s quite enough, Lestrade.” Sherlock said as he looked from John to the detective, lifting up a wrist and fastening the button before looking toward Anderson. “What else do we need to know?”

Anderson glanced warily at Lestrade, and then let out a breath before turning his gaze back to Sherlock. “The code to Anthony’s group is ‘wonderland’. He doesn’t stay out in the open so you’ll have to find him.”

Lestrade kept his eyes on John, who was looking away from the group with his jaw set in irritation. After Anderson was done speaking and a silence began to settle, the Scotland Yard detective let out a breath and lifted up his hands in defeat, resting them on his hips when the doctor remained silent. “I don’t know what else to say, John.” He said quietly after a moment. “We need your help, I’m sorry it had to be this way, I didn’t know how else to do it, and…please. We’ll compensate you for the trousers.”

“I don’t _care_ about – just – just forget it.” John said, waving a hand irritably at them before looking toward Sherlock. “Are we going?”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, meeting John’s gaze for only a moment before the doctor nodded stiffly and then toward the entrance. “All right then.”

Sherlock looked toward Lestrade and Anderson before he lowered his sleeve, appearing to be faintly amused. “I’ll call when we’ve returned to the flat.”

Lestrade’s lips turned up in a grateful smile, nodding to the detective as he passed and began to follow his shorter companion. 

The two made their way quickly out to the alleyway, and it was only when they were out of sight that the head of Scotland Yard let out the breath he felt like he had been holding for hours.

*

“John!”

John continued ahead at a brisk walk through the mist, ignoring the call behind him as he kept his eyes set on the sidewalk. Quick footsteps approached from behind him, but he didn’t bother to glance back even as Sherlock came to a set pace beside him. The two walked in silence for half a block, Sherlock glancing around the street before letting out a breath and rubbing his hands together.

“Well, if I was to give Lestrade any credit it would be for his taste in clothing.” Sherlock murmured under his breath, fidgeting with his sleeve again before glancing over at John. The doctor didn’t return his gaze, and Sherlock smiled almost to himself before turning away and squinting ahead of them. “Did you check your pockets?”

John’s eyebrows furrowed. He blinked in the mist before reaching down and glancing at his hand, his fingers moving against something shuffling in his pocket. He pulled out the small stack of papers, which turned out to be a wad of bills, a glossy ticket, and an ID held together with a clip. In the other pocket was a pen and embroidered handkerchief. 

“Entry ticket, several hundred pounds and identification. Scotland Yard has spared no expense.” Sherlock said with a hint of cynicism, glancing at the items John held before looking back at the street. “Not to mention the several thousand pounds for the clothing.”

“Yes what _are_ they on about?” John demanded, squinting up at Sherlock as he shoved the items back in his pocket. “I would never thought Lestrade to take measures like that.”

“You underestimate him.” Sherlock said with a slight smile, his eyes remaining on the street ahead as they walked. “He can came up with more stupid ideas in an hour than you might have in a lifetime.”

John let out a brief laugh that wasn’t quite humored. “Somehow I wouldn’t doubt it after that.”

Sherlock chuckled as they rounded the corner, a bright blue sign suddenly becoming visible in the middle of the street. The name “Seriph” was illuminated across the center in a luxurious cursive that made it almost unreadable, and a line of two limos and 5 or 6 taxis were lined up outside of the entryway. John cleared his throat and squinted toward the nightclub as they made their way forward, attempting to peer at the people that stood there in a line. “Are we going to have to wait outside?”

“No doubt we were given VIP tickets. We’ll talk to the man at the door before we go in.” Sherlock said almost under his breath, hiking up his jacket as a particularly brisk wind moved down the street. “Stay alert, and stay close.”

John nodded as he hiked up his jacket as well, burrowing his hands in his jacket pockets while the two of them made their way down the remainder of the block toward the nightclub. The crowd grew steadily louder as they approached, and John let out a steady breath as they began to make their way through the small multitude. A small VIP sign blinked on the other side of the building, and he found himself having to push and shove a great deal more than he expected to keep up with his taller companion. People around him laughed and nearly ran into him more times than he could count, bringing him to a point of being out of breath by the time they finally emerged on the other side.

“Excuse me – excuse me!”

John let out an exhausted breath as he slowed, glancing to the left where he could see Sherlock insistently approaching one of the guards at the door. He managed to roll his eyes to himself before pushing himself forward, making it to the detective’s side just as the dark haired man pulled out his ticket. “Will this do?”

The large man looked down at Sherlock for a long moment, eyeing him critically as John barely managed to make it past the last of the crowd. Slowly he reached forward and plucked the ticket from the detective’s hands, his eyes narrowing suspiciously before they lowered to the text. Sherlock continued to watch the man expectantly even as he raised his eyebrows, lifting his gaze toward him again and then straightening. It was only when he reached forward and slowly unhooked the barrier to the rest of the club that John remembered to breathe. 

“Hey. You with him?” 

The question startled John, and he looked up with a surprised blink to see the man watching him with the same critical gaze as he stood with the barrier line in one hand.

“Oh, yes – yes, I am.” John replied, fumbling momentarily with his pockets before reaching in and pulling out his ticket. He handed it to the large man before bouncing on the balls of his feet and biting his lip, glancing at him while the guard took another particularly long moment to look over the writing. 

“All right.” The man said slowly after a moment, taking his ticket and pulling back the barrier a bit further. “You boys have a good time. If you want a tip, though,” he motioned Sherlock forward with two fingers and leaned in closer. _“take your boy to the next level. The bartender will help you out.”_

Sherlock turned just slightly toward the man, giving him a small smile before pulling several bills out of his pocket and handing it to the man. “Thank you.”

The man took the bills with a nod, leaning back and clearing their way. “You boys have a good night.”

Sherlock reached back and put a hand on John’s back, ushering him forward as they made their way through the black curtain.

It was not 5 steps later that the full effect of the lights and music hit them.

John could count on one hand the amount of times he had been in a club, and the memories came flashing back at nearly the pace of the strobe lights. Hundreds of people were littered over the dance floor under a thin cloud of smoke, the floor itself vibrating with the sheer volume of the music. People walked past them in droves, joining another mass that was gathered at the wall-sized bar to their right. 

“We’ll want to speak with the bartender.” Sherlock said, leaning down close to John’s ear as they surveyed the space. His hand began to move the doctor forward and to the right, joining the crowd on their way to the in-demand drink oasis.

“Which one?” John asked, attempting to raise his voice above the crowd as he turned back just slightly toward the detective. “There’s at least 3 or 4 up there!”

“Look for the man!” Sherlock shouted back, leaning forward and stumbling against the doctor as a man roughly passed him on his left. “Sorry!”

John held out an arm to brace them against losing their balance, barely missing a woman ahead of them. 

“This had better be a good one, Sherlock!”

“It’s Ben! Or, Benny – I imagine.” Sherlock said as they continued to move forward, his eyes peering through the crowd toward the area where he was certain he had seen a male bartender. “Toward the center! I think I see him!”

John’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he attempted to peer past the crowd. Sherlock’s hand continued to guide him forward through the mass, and he muttered a curse under his breath as he just barely dodged a woman spilling her drink. 

“We’re almost there!”

Not several paces later John and Sherlock reached the center bar, shoving past several more people to get themselves to what was barely a foot of space between the two of them. Sherlock leaned intently against the bar, leaning over to catch the eye of the bartender before raising a hand. 

The bartender raised a hand minimally to acknowledge him before handing one of the patron’s a drink, smiling and thanking them for the cash he pocketed before strolling his way over to where Sherlock was waiting. “Can I help you?”

“My partner and I would like a drink.” Sherlock stated, glancing at John before putting a hand on his shoulder and bringing him forward until he was squished next to him. “What will you have, Tony?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow as John hesitated for a moment. “I’ll, uh…I’ll have a whiskey soda. Two fingers with light ice, if you would.” He said, nodding toward the bartender before tapping his fingers anxiously on the counter.

“Sure.” The bartender said with a nod, switching his eyes to Sherlock. “And you?”

“I’ll have the same.” Sherlock replied, giving the bartender a smile before placing a wad of bills on the counter. “I hear your drinks are how we can take this to the next level.” He said, his smile lingering briefly as the bartender lifted his gaze with an almost curious look at the offer. “As strong as you can make them, if you would be so kind.”

The bartender’s eyes lowered to the cash before rising again to Sherlock. He nodded slowly before reaching out and taking the money with a crooked smile. “Sure, I think I can cook something up.” He said, giving Sherlock a brief wink before moving toward the back counter. “You boys sit tight.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the man move away before looking up at Sherlock. “What was that all about?”

“A theory.” Sherlock replied, his eyes squinting as he watched the man begin to assemble their drinks. “The man at the door gave me a hint that may assist us with finding our man. If I’m right - and I usually am - the bartender is one of the steps to gaining access that Lestrade failed to find.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed further, and he looked back toward the bartender. The man lifted and dropped half a dozen bottles with flare as he continued with their drinks, turning only once to wave at a customer while he dispensed the soda. A moment later he reached out to grab two straws, throwing them in neatly with an orange garnish before turning and placing the two glasses in front of them. 

“There you are.” He said, handing them two napkins as well before tapping the table with a nod. “You boys have fun in wonderland.”

Sherlock’s face turned into a smile as he took the napkin, and John only briefly caught a glimpse of the writing before Sherlock tucked it away in his fist. The detective nodded gratefully in return to the man, and then moved with John to head back into the crowd.

The two of them made their way cautiously forward from the bar, attempting to avoid being bumped into as they moved away from the worst of the crowd. A small break in the masses revealed a wall lined with plush benches, and Sherlock nudged John toward the area after he had spotted a small space on one of the coveted seats. “Over there!”

John glanced over to where the detective was pointing, squinting briefly before he spotted what Sherlock had been pointing to. Both exchanged a brief nod before Sherlock led them forward, meandering through the thinnest parts of the shifting crowd until they got to the small space where two other men were also seated. Sherlock nodded to both of them with a brief ‘hello’ before immediately taking a seat, and John stopped just short of attempting to sit next to him before almost awkwardly handing the detective his drink. 

“Here, I’m going to find the restrooms!” John shouted over the music, briefly waving back at the two men before putting a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and leaning in close. _“Don’t. Move.”_ He said in a quiet hiss near the detective’s ear. _“If I’m not back in 5 minutes then something’s gone wrong.”_

“Move it along, then!” Sherlock nodded, moving him away in distracted annoyance as he continued to survey the area. The music blared and reverberated off of every surface around them as the crowd continue to shift in teeming cycles, causing even the drinks he held to tremble. 

They were close; he could feel it. 

Sherlock glanced up briefly before opening the napkin, looking at the words as his eyebrows furrowed just slightly.

_‘Find Alice upstairs.’_

Stairs. 

There were two staircases: one right of the room and one left. One contained a guard, the other did not. Assuming the area was guarded they were undoubtedly on the correct side, and John was causing a costly-

“Are you here to find wonderland?”

Sherlock lifted his gaze toward the man directly next to him, his eyes squinting just slightly as he observed the smiling face.

The man was tall and skinny, clearly coming or leaving the club with the man next to him telling by his liberal make up. He had a drink in one hand and what appeared to be a joint in the other, if the relaxed nature of his face was any tell. 

“Yes, actually.” Sherlock said after a moment, giving the man a friendly and surprised smile at the inquiry. “The bartender gave me this but I’m not entirely sure what it means.”

The man laughed lightly, taking another draw from the small cigarette before letting out an amused breath. “He’s helping you out, mate.” He explained, giving him a lazy smile before nodding toward the napkin. “You and your boy. It’s hard to find a place to mess around here with all the homophobes that like to jump our bones. You two are together, right?”

Sherlock paused for only a moment before immediately nodding. “W- yes, yes.” He said, laughing as if the matter was obvious. “It’s our first time to this particular place, of course, but it appears more accommodating than we expected.”

The man nodded with a smile, taking another slow draw. “Yeah,” he said, letting out a long breath. “just make sure you tell them ‘wonderland’ at the door. It’s a…secret code of sorts.”

“A secret code?”

Sherlock and the man both abruptly looked up to find John looking at both of them with a frown of confusion. “What secret code?”

“ _There_ you are!” Sherlock said grandly, standing up and handing him his drink before leaning forward and giving John a small kiss on the cheek. John stood still and blinked several times before looking up cautiously at Sherlock, who continued without pause. “I was just telling this gentlemen about our experience in nightclubs around London. Just horrible for people with relationships like ours, are they not?”

“Rel-“ John paused with a frown of confusion, shifting his weight and looking pointedly at Sherlock who did not falter in his smile for a moment. “You…told them that we’re-“

“Well I hadn’t quite gotten to our story, yet.” Sherlock said with a laugh, sitting back down and beckoning John to sit on his lap. “Come now, take a load off for a bit before we explore the place a bit more, shall we?”

The man next to Sherlock nodded slowly with a smile. “Yeah you’ll appreciate the rest.” He said, lifting his drink and giving John a wink before taking a long draw.

John’s eyes flit back to Sherlock, who gave him a hard stare through his smile before leaning forward and taking him by the wrist. “Oh come now, Tony – you’ve really worked way too hard today.”

Sherlock pulled John forward until he was seated on his lap, immediately putting a firm arm around him to discourage him shifting. John stiffened even as Sherlock handed him his drink, pursing his lips together as he glanced surreptitiously around the room. 

_“Play along.”_ Sherlock muttered under his breath, smiling once more and rubbing his back vigorously. “There now. Isn’t that better?”

“I…well - Sh– _Ben_ –“ John said irritably, holding out his drink to keep it from spilling over him at the rough movements. “Mind the glass, will you?”

Sherlock glanced toward the man on his right with a private smile. _“Long day at work.”_

The man gave him a slow wink in return before motioning toward John’s back. _“Might take some loosening up.”_

Sherlock gave him a wink and thumbs up in return before patting John on the back and moving to stand up. “Well then, Tony – what say we find what this gentlemen was so gracious as to point out to us.” 

John turned with some help from Sherlock, putting his napkin under his drink before forcing a smile toward the man and nodding. “Oh – well, yes – absolutely. Thank you very much for letting us know.” He said, giving him a half smile before raising a hand and following Sherlock toward the wall adjacent to theirs. “Sher – Ben!”

Sherlock turned only slightly, waiting for John to catch up before motioning toward a discreet staircase against the wall ahead of them. 

“There. That’s where we’ll find him.”

“And…where is that, exactly?” John asked in slightly irked distraction, focusing on cleaning up his drink until an arm firmly hooked itself around him. “Wh-“

_“Play along, John.”_

Sherlock then proceeded to laugh and lean over to kiss his head fondly, bringing him closer as they walked toward the stairs. John looked up at him in slight befuddlement, and Sherlock leaned in again to kiss his forehead once more before they neared the bottom of the stairs. 

“All right then, _Tony_ ,” Sherlock said loudly with an overly fond smile at the doctor, squeezing him tightly before they reached the stairs and began their ascent. “I hope you’re ready for a true blue trip to wonderland…”

“Won - o-oh…yes…” John said with slight hesitance, frowning before he glanced surreptitiously up the stairs and saw a guard hidden in the shadows. Sherlock suddenly grasped the back of his head in a warm gesture, and John started only briefly before forcing himself to pull his face into a haphazard smile. After a moment he reached up and somewhat awkwardly reciprocated the gesture, hesitating for a brief moment before impulsively drawing their heads together until their foreheads touched. Sherlock returned the gesture appropriately with a fond smile, and John returned it as best he could while the eyes of the guard drilled into them. 

“Now,” John said with a fond tone that was just audible above the noise, drawing Sherlock’s gaze as he attempted to find his vocal footing. “just where can we get some privacy?”

Sherlock slowly withdrew, smiling somewhat mysteriously before tapping a finger on his nose. “Well that, my dear Tony…is for you to find out.” He said, giving him a subtle wink before starting up the stairs. “Come along now, darling.”

John blinked briefly before hurriedly following the detective, reaching forward and grasping the hand Sherlock had insistently extended behind him. Their hands grasped tightly, and Sherlock led them steadily up the stairs toward where the outer wall consumed the staircase. John leaned down to get one last glance at the main room before the stairs disappeared between two walls, his hand unconsciously gripping Sherlock’s tighter as the darkness enveloped them.

“Excuse me!” Sherlock shouted over the noise, stopping briefly as he called up to the guard at the hidden door. John looked up as the guard turned toward him and narrowed his eyes as if attempting to recognize their faces. Sherlock took the opportunity to take another two steps up the stairs, further from the strobe light of the room below. “We’re here to find Alice in wonderland.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, looking him over as he slowly continued to chew his gum. “Alice, huh. You sure about that?” he asked in a slow drawl, shifting slightly before motioning toward John. “Your boy toy over there doesn’t look like he’s too thrilled at the idea.”

John bristled slightly as the guard looked at him with raised eyebrows, challenging him with what the doctor could only see as unacceptable rudeness. How much of his perception was due to his discomfort with the closed-in stairway, however, he didn’t consider.

“Or, maybe I’m impatient.” The doctor said with a smile that was clearly short of polite, giving the man a look before motioning toward the door. His hand remained firmly around Sherlock’s even as the guard raised an eyebrow further. “On you go. We know the password so just…let us inside.”

The guard eyed him for a moment longer, slowly chewing his gum while John continued to look at him. It was only when a good half a minute more had passed that a smile slowly crept up the guard’s face, his head nodding in appreciation while John’s gaze remained on his without a hint of wavering. With a low chuckle he turned just slightly in relent, a creak of wood sounding beneath him as he gave a slow nod to the door.

“Thank you.” John said almost under his breath. He initiated the step forward towards the door, ignoring the bland wink the guard gave at him as he passed.

“You boys have fun.”

Sherlock glanced at the man as he passed, his eyebrows momentarily furrowing as if attempting to deduce something from the man’s face. John took the liberty of passing him during that moment, making his way straight to the door and opening it without ceremony.

“...oh god.”

John’s low utterance gained Sherlock’s attention as the doctor stood framed in the open doorway, his silhouette surrounded by a hot blue mist of smoke and poorly filtered lights. Sherlock’s eyebrows knit as he stepped up behind him, forcing himself between the doctor and the doorway’s edge until he was standing directly in the room.  
It became apparent then what had stopped the doctor in his tracks. 

Three couples, all male and completely unclothed, were in various parts of the room in the midst of what appeared to be a mixture of heavy-handed and well-paced intercourse. Only one looked up briefly as they entered, but his partner pulled him back with a demanding kiss when his eyes met Sherlock’s.

It appeared to be that they had found the male sex rooms of that particular club.

John and Sherlock both exchanged stiff glances as a particularly load moan permeated the room, the doctor moving forward with utmost hesitance and caution to stand next to Sherlock as the door closed behind them. The sharp sound of a slap echoed from somewhere in a smoke-covered corner, causing both of them to jump just before a blessedly non-fevered voice brushed their ears.

_“Well…you boys must be new.”_

A slow, slithering voice drew the attention of both the doctor and detective. On the right side of the room a man with blue jeans and fallen suspenders pulled on a cigarette, leaning against the opening to what they could only assume was another set of rooms. The smoke spilled from his nose as he smiled, watching the two of them stand somewhat frozen by the entrance. “Looks like you found yourself quite the boy toy, handsome. Find him downstairs?”

“…yes.” 

“-no.”

Sherlock and John both responded simultaneously, causing the man to raise his eyebrows as he watched the two of them exchanged glances. John hesitated as he looked at Sherlock, while the detective immediately attempted to cover the blunder.

“Unless you’re talking about how I _originally_ found him,” Sherlock covered, giving the man an apologetic smile as he continued. “We met on…Willaby St., actually. The coffee shop, was it?” he asked with a glance at John who immediately went with the play and nodded.

“Yes, yes – Lucy’s, if I recall.” John said, smiling up at the detective who reached out to take his hand again. Sherlock squeezed it quickly before looking back toward the man, giving him a smile despite the chuckle he could hear over the noise of the room. 

“Cute.” The man said with a slow smile, looking between them as he took in a small draw. “I hope you get to spice it up every now and then after all that sweet.”

“Well, we like to focus on what’s important.” Sherlock said with a smile and nod, pausing before lifting John’s hand somewhat awkwardly and slowly lowering it again. “Spice is of course important, but we’re actually here to see Alice.”

The man raised an eyebrow, letting out a slow breath before furrowing his eyebrows in slight amusement. “Alice. Now why would you want to see him when you’ve got room to take your new boy for a spin?”

“We, uh…we live together, actually.” John interjected, giving him a polite but firm smile as he tilted to the side and then motioned to the rest of the room. “We can… _do it_ …” he said with a bit of forced normality as he spoke. “any time we like.”

The man raised his eyebrows, a smile touching his lips as he let out another breath of smoke. “Well aren’t you a keeper.” He said, chuckling as the last of the smoke left his nose. He pushed idly off the wall, taking one more draw before beginning to turn. “Bet you’re good in bed, though. Tight-ass ones always are.”

“Excuse me-“ 

_“John.”_ Sherlock warned in a low tone, putting a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and keeping it there until John turned his head just slightly toward him in frustration. The man had turned completely now and was making his way into the next smoke-filled room.

“Follow me, gents.”

Sherlock glanced down at the doctor, his gaze steady as John closed his lips and pursed them in an attempt to restrain his frustration. When certain that his companion would not continue to address their guide, Sherlock proceeded to follow his trail with John in tow.

The rooms they passed through were littered with the same activity. In two of them Sherlock and John had to step over several couples that seemed to have lost all sense of the outside world. At least once John swore under his breath and had to force himself not to look at what he had stepped in.

“All right, here we are, then.” 

The man slowed idly as they reached a short hallway, motioning to a space near the middle. He stopped by a single door with noticeably chipped paint and knocked twice, listening briefly before pushing it open. 

“You can take your boy for a spin while I locate Anthony. It’s no trouble,” He deflected as Sherlock and John both opened their mouths to respond. “Just make sure you finish before he gets there. He likes his people well satisfied before his talks.”

Sherlock’s lips moved into a forced smile, his eyebrows rising in feigned excitement before he wrapped an arm firmly around John. “Well now we couldn’t refuse such an offer could we, Tony?” he said with a laugh, giving him a squeeze tight enough to expel any words from the shorter man’s lips as he opened the door. “Tell Anthony we’ll be right along when he’s ready.”

“Oh he’ll find you.” The man said with a nod and smile as he took another draw from his cigarette. He watched Sherlock and John enter the room before giving them both a slow wink. “I’d tell you to be safe…but that’s not what this place is for.”

“Of course not.” Sherlock said with a chuckle, giving him a small but grateful nod before closing the door firmly behind them. 

_Clink._

“Sherlock what the _hell is going on!”_ John shouted in a hoarse whisper, glaring at his friend who moved swiftly from the door and immediately removed his own scarf. The doctor’s eyes followed him as the detective moved to the only chair in the room and swiftly placed the garment there. “We were _supposed_ to be finding Anthony!”

“It doesn’t matter, John, the game’s afoot and we were lucky enough to have gotten this far.” Sherlock said as his coat slid from his arms. He turned toward John as he loosened his tie, approaching him quickly when he observed John had not moved. “Quickly now – Anthony will be along any moment.”

“What – Sherlock!” John protested as Sherlock immediately stepped forward and ruffled a hand through his hair, his other hand beginning to work at the doctor’s jacket and vest.

“Take these off. They believe we’re lovers and they’ll expect to see it.” Sherlock stated as he threw John’s jacket on the floor and began to work at his own buttons. “Unbutton your shirt and wrinkle the fabric.” 

John watched him in brief hesitation before beginning to fumble with his buttons, glancing toward the door quickly as Sherlock finished the last of his fasteners. 

“Good. Now untuck.” Sherlock instructed, pulling the fabric out from John’s trousers and pushing part of the shirt off of the doctor’s shoulder. “Wrinkle, John – I said _wrinkle_!” 

“What-“ John protested as Sherlock began to aggressively wrinkle his shirt, putting his hands under and over the fabric in firm clutches and caresses. “Sherlock-“

“If it doesn’t look real it won’t work.” Sherlock said under his breath, finishing the last bit on the right side before ruffling a hand through his own hair. “All right. Now we’re going to have to do a bit of kissing. They should come in before we would be expected to do anything further.”

“Oh no – _wait_ -“ John said firmly, backing himself up against the wall while Sherlock looked at him expectantly. “You can’t be serious. This is not what-, you can’t-“

“Oh come now John you love these sort of stakes.” Sherlock said in a low, insistent voice as he moved forward, clutching John’s face before leaning in and giving him a full, firm kiss. He withdrew just as John gasped for breath, raking a hand through his hair before pushing their lips together yet again. _“There…”_ he whispered, breathing against him as he switched the position of their lips. His hands immediately moved to the back of his head and neck, keeping them close together even as the stiffness in John’s body slowly began to lose its rigidity. 

The sound of footsteps stopped outside the door, and Sherlock opened one eye to look in its direction before pulling John from the wall and moving him to the sole mat in the room. John met the ground with a huff of lost breath, his eyes widening momentarily as Sherlock moved on top of him.

 _“We’re being watched, just do as I do.”_ Sherlock whispered in a low breath, kissing him once to silence him before lifting and renewing the contact with a firmer touch. His hands moved up John’s sides, baring his skin while nudging John’s elbows insistently to cue him to participate. John let out a brief sound of protest before he finally began to give in, moving his hands under Sherlock’s shirt from back to front before slowly pulling the garment from the detective’s shoulders.

Sherlock withdrew long enough for John to yank the last bit of shirt from his wrist, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly as if studying to see why exactly the doctor had made that move. 

“John - I removed enough clothing for them to believe we were about to engage in intercourse.”

 _“That may be, but we’re kissing and it feels better if you’re just a little more humiliated about this than I am.”_ John whispered irritably, tossing the shirt away while Sherlock continued to watch him through furrowed eyebrows. When Sherlock did not resume motion immediately afterwards, John let out an irritable breath and pulled at his neck until their lips met, bringing the detective closer to him while his other hand moved to the side of his arm.

Sherlock shifted their kiss as it deepened, pulling John closer before efficiently rolling to the side and ensuring that John transitioned to a position over him. He smiled as John realized too late that Sherlock meant to pull his shirt off as well, the smile momentarily breaking their kiss as he laughed quietly and tossed the garment to the side. John’s reprimand was cut off as Sherlock resumed their kiss, rolling him back underneath him as his hands moved with purpose over the doctor’s warm skin. 

“Oh - god…” John breathed as Sherlock’s lips moved away and replaced themselves on his neck, his body trembling involuntarily as the touch sparked a sensitivity that had remained untouched for…an extended period of time. “Okay – all right – Sherl-lock…” His eyes became dazed as he attempted to stop the detective from moving further down his trunk, the nimble hands beginning to make quick work of his belt. “No – no, you are not going there…”

 _“They’re still watching.”_ Sherlock reminded him, his tongue digging unexpectedly into John’s side as the doctor gasped unexpectedly.

John took several quick, deep breaths before closing his eyes. “Sherlock we’re going to need to stop there. I mean it,” he said insistently as his hands began to move. “we can’t go any further.”

Sherlock drew another hitched gasp from the doctor as his tongue pushed into his neck – overwhelming even the sensation of the belt’s release from his waist. The detective’s hands slowly pushed down the fabric, and John lashed out to grab his wrist quickly before he could move any further.

Sherlock’s eyes rose to his, and John looked at him with lips pursed in sincerity as he attempted to keep his gaze steady. “Don’t.”

Sherlock kept his gaze for only a moment longer before he glanced down between them, his eyes lifting again with a slight smile before his hand moved to an entirely different place.

John’s breath halted as his back stiffened, his left hand digging into Sherlock’s arm as the detective’s hand moved slowly over what thin cloth remained at his hips. Sherlock’s lips parted just slightly as he watched him, his eyes remaining set on his face as he observed the doctor’s back arch just slightly. 

Just as John began to open his eyes Sherlock’s chin lowered, his eyes squinting just slightly as he shifted his hand to move under the cloth. John’s grip on his wrist and arm tightened painfully, but Sherlock insistently continued while the doctor’s breath left him.

 _“Stop – stop it, Sherlock-“_ John gasped, his hand moving shakily from the detective’s arm to his hand and yanking it away. Sherlock manipulated the movement until the doctor’s hands were turned and pinned to the floor. 

He loomed over John for a brief moment while his eyes remained on his face, watching the strained breath leave the doctor’s lips. Several beats passed before he slowly slid forward, rubbing their lower halves together in a smooth, forceful motion.

John let out a gasping breath as Sherlock moved over him, his eyes closing tightly while the detective’s lips parted with a light breath. Sherlock paused for only another moment before sliding back, his eyes watching the doctor’s face before he moved forward again – beginning a slow but steady pace. John’s hands tightened into fists as he tried to regulate his breathing, opening his eyes only briefly before closing them again with a particularly well-placed movement from Sherlock.

Only a few moments passed before John began to twist under Sherlock’s grasp, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as their breathing quickened. His struggle became more fervent as the moments continued, and it was only when his breathing became ragged that Sherlock abruptly released his wrists – turning him over quickly before efficiently pulling the doctor’s hips against his. John’s hands dug into the mat as Sherlock’s hand moved without warning and continued the fervent strokes against him, pushing him over the edge without a breath to resist.

“Oh – _god…Sherl-“_ John gasped as his hands took the mat in a vice grip, bowing his head fervently as he came. Sherlock’s hands continued to move efficiently and thoroughly, easing him through as John’s body began to crumple under the crippling waves of pleasure.

 _“Easy, John.”_ Sherlock murmured in a low voice, easing him onto the floor while simultaneously pulling up cloth to shift the doctor’s lower garments back into place. He carefully moved them into a comfortable position, ensuring John’s head reached the floor carefully as the doctor slowly began to roll to his back. _“Easy…”_

John eased himself down before reaching up an arm and covering his eyes – shielding them from the light as the fatigue slowly began to wear off. Sherlock watched him for a moment before slowly leaning back into a kneel, putting his hands on his legs as the doctor’s breathing slowly began to regulate. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, and after another moment John removed his arm and stared fixedly at the ceiling.

Sherlock watched him as he stared for a moment longer, allowing the silence to remain for another minute before opening his mouth as if to speak.

Before he could utter a word, however, the door opened.

Light streamed into the room as both John and Sherlock turned, their eyes squinting immediately as the silhouette of three men entered. One was their previous guide telling from his posture, but the other they could only assume was the man they had come to see.

“Well if it isn’t the new kids.”

The man at the front spoke with a voice that seemed a little too loud for their surroundings, and at the time it was particularly unpleasant. He was dressed in a flowing white v-neck shirt that was tucked into tight leather pants, his hair long with a cut clearly fashioned in the 80’s. Two gold teeth shone in the light as he smiled at the both of them, nodding surreptitiously to John before winking at Sherlock. “I’m glad to see you like the place.”

Sherlock’s face formed a smile at the words, the pause before he rose lasting almost long enough to draw suspicion. It was quickly rectified as he wiped off his hands and then offered one to whom they could only assume to be Anthony.

“It is good to meet you, Anthony.” Sherlock said in a slightly higher-pitched voice that normal, his smile reaching an almost over-eager status as he spoke to the man. Anthony shook his hand without pause, however, chuckling as he looked at the undercover detective.

“Good to see you in such good hands.” Anthony said, turning and winking at John who had pushed himself up from his place on the mat. “Doing okay there, sport? Stan why don’t you help him up.”

“No – no, I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks.” John said insistently, raising up a hand to stop the other man before he started to step forward. A breath left his lips as he pushed himself up, standing somewhat shakily to his feet before weakly beginning to attempt to close his belt. “We…didn’t expect you so soon.”

Anthony chuckled, looking down with a nod before lifting his eyes to the two of them. “Well I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had visitors in here that aren’t looking for what we offer.” He said, looking between them with a shrug before nodding to Stan. “Isn’t that right, Stan. Just had a couple last week trying to infiltrate this place. That’s the thing about guys that run the police…they’re not willing to commit to what it would take to get in here.”

“The police are after you?” Sherlock asked with a feigned frown, looking between the two as if it was the first he had heard of the news. “Offering rooms was not against the law last I was aware…”

Anthony smiled as Sherlock trailed off, leaving him open to respond. “That’s right. Pretty sure they think we’re up to something else too, though.” He said, motioning to the two of them as he turned and started back toward the hallway. Their original guide handed them the clothes they had removed with a wink before the two of them began to follow. “So you two are new to around here. The guy at the front tip you off?”

“As well as the bartender and a client by the wall.” Sherlock added, recognizing the pull for information and immediately filling in what he needed to hear. “’wonderland’…a peculiar code.”

“We like to keep it within a peculiar realm. Once you’ve found us a couple times you’ll get the pattern.” Anthony assured him, looking back with a wink before they reached the end of the hallway. He slowed just before the door and turned the handle, opening it slowly before motioning for them to precede him inside. “After you.”

Sherlock and John both stepped cautiously into the room, which turned out to be a small office of sorts with three chairs in front of a modest desk. Both of them exchanged glances before moving forward to take a seat, followed momentarily by Anthony who took the chair behind the desk.

“All right then…welcome to my humble abode.” Anthony said with a smile, motioning to the room around them before chuckling and leaning back against the chair. “What can I do for you boys?”

John glanced toward Sherlock at the question, and Sherlock smiled slightly before glancing down and lifting a hand toward the man. “Well, we heard you were in the business of selling.” He said after a moment, giving him a small chuckle of his own before tapping his fingers somewhat nervously on the arm of the chair. “And we would like to buy.”

Anthony’s eyebrows lifted, and he absently tapped the end of a pen against his cheek with a telltale click as he listened. “…buy?”

“Yes.” Sherlock replied, keeping his gaze steadily on the underground manager as a more serious tone began to sift through the air. “Tony, the money.”

John glanced at him briefly before quickly reaching into his pocket, pulling out the remainder of money he had left and handing it to the detective. Sherlock took it without pause, combined it with his and then threw it into the center of the table. “That should buy us enough to get by until you relocate.”

There was a moment of silence as Anthony looked at the money, slowly clicking and unclicking the pen against his cheek as he considered the offer. A low creaking sound followed him as he slowly swayed back and forth in his chair, lifting his eyebrows for a brief moment before he let out a breath and slowly put the pen back on the table.

“Well, gents, I see you know what you’re talking about…but this ain’t gonna get you much.” Anthony said, shaking his head as he slowly reached forward to pick up the money. A week’s worth maybe, but after that…”

“After that we’ll need to find you again.” Sherlock said, shrugging as if the answer was obvious. “We found you once already, I’m sure with a bit of desperation added we can do it again.”

Anthony watched him for a cold moment before a smile tugged at his lips. “You’re a confident son of a bitch, aren’t you?” he asked, turning the money over slowly in his hand as his smile remained briefly on his lips. “…okay, then. I’ll get you what you need. Just meet my guy by the door and I’ll send you on your way. No waiting around, though, you understand? Straight back to that place of yours, and no mentioning names.”

Sherlock nodded in understanding, rising and offering his hand to the dealer. “It was a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

*

“How you walk out of circumstances like that will never cease to amaze me.”

John shook his head as he and Sherlock made their way down the block, Club Seriph finally becoming smaller as they began to make their way back to their flat. 

A brown paper bag was tucked tightly under Sherlock’s shoulder, and the detective smiled in a bit of self-satisfaction as the cold air seemed to rejuvenate what energy had been stolen from them in the club. “Oh come now John it wasn’t that difficult.”

“Not difficult? After all that, _that_ is how you would classify that little interaction?” John demanded, pointing back in disbelief toward the nightclub as he looked up at the detective. “I don’t know if you noticed, Sherlock, but that was not a normal undercover mission.”

“And what do you define as ‘normal’?”

John scoffed in disbelief, turning away with a shake of his head as he took in a sharp breath and put his hands in his pockets. “Unbelievable…”

Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at John, glancing him over before his eyebrows creased further. “What?”

John shook his head again, pursing his lips briefly before he looked up pointedly at the detective. “You really think that was normal. All…that.”

“’That’. You mean the kissing?”

“Yes, _that_.”

“Well I rather enjoyed it.”

“Oh come now Sherlock don’t go off like that.”

“Like what?” Sherlock asked, looking down at him with eyebrows furrowed as they finished crossing the street. “People usually take that as a compliment.”

“Well those people are normally women, now aren’t they?” John said with a hint of irritation, shaking his head as he wrapped his coat more firmly around himself and blew into the palms of his hands. “God it’s bloody freezing…”

Sherlock glanced down at him, looking down at his hands before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of gloves. “Take these.” He said, offering them to John as the doctor rubbed his hands together quickly for warmth. 

John glanced at them, frowning before looking up at Sherlock. “You aren’t using them?”

“My coat is warm enough.” Sherlock replied, moving the gloves closer to him before placing them in his hands. “Put them on.”

John fumbled with them for a brief moment before he let out a breath, putting his now blood-red hands into the soft folds of the fabric before donning the other one as well. They were warm and soft, and an instant relief moved through his skin as the heat began to return to his bones. 

“Thank you, I guess.” He said, looking at the odd design of the garments before shaking his head and putting his hands back in his coat pocket. “I’ll have to tell Lestrade to be better prepared if he’s to send anyone else out on a wild goose chase.”

“We caught the goose, John.”

John rolled his eyes, but his lips tipped up slightly at the correction. “Well yes…I suppose we did.”

Sherlock smiled, glancing down at John who shook his head admittedly. 

“I admit it. It was a successful run.” The doctor said, watching the road for another moment before meeting Sherlock’s gaze. “Lestrade will be bloody thrilled.”

“Without a doubt.” Sherlock agreed, smiling once more before looking back at the street. A car passed them quietly before making a slow turn, and their eyes followed it almost out of habit before Sherlock absently rubbed his hands together and looked back toward the sidewalk. 

John did a small double-take when he noticed the motion out of the corner of his eye, his jaw lowering in slight disbelief before he threw up his hands and began to take the gloves off. “See, I knew it-“

Sherlock looked over at him in surprise as John pulled off the first glove. “What?” he asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing as John worked on the second one. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you…your bloody gloves back.”

“John – _John_ , just – put them back on.” Sherlock insisted, refusing the gloves until John slapped them in his chest. The detective briefly looked heavenward before letting out a short breath, shaking his head as he slowly lowered them to his hands. “All right. If you’re going to be like that, then we’ll both wear them.”

John made a face in confusion before looking back up at Sherlock, who was putting a glove on his right hand. “What are you talking-“

“Give me your hand.” 

Sherlock reached down and picked up John’s left hand, pushing it into the glove he had donned as well and clutching his fingers tightly once they were in. John’s eyes widened when he realized what he was doing and immediately tried to retract, but Sherlock kept a firm grasp on his hand.

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing?!” John demanded, brandishing their hands while Sherlock kept his eyes straight ahead. “You think you’re brilliant for this, don’t you-“

“Play along, John.”

“Don’t bloody tell me to play along when you’re holding my hand in the middle of the street.”

“No one is watching, our hands are cold and if we’re followed it only solidifies our story.” Sherlock reasoned, continuing to pay as little attention to John’s resistance as possible while they walked. “ _Think_ , John.”

“I _am_ thinking.”

“So we’re in agreement then.”

“ _No_ , you – how can you say that?”

“I’ve seen you close to naked, John, there is little I don’t know or can’t say.”

“Are you blackmailing me? You were part of that too, you know.”

“Yes; but unlike you, I don’t care what other people think.” Sherlock said, raising a pointed eyebrow toward the doctor as both of them slowed by the familiar front door. “Lestrade better have made good with our keys…”

The door opened without resistance, and Sherlock led John inside the dark entryway before closing the door behind them. 

Familiar smells immediately sent a wave of relief through John’s body as Sherlock finally released his hand - both of them methodically removing their winter clothing and placing them neatly on the proper hooks. A chill caused both of them to rub their hands together sporadically as they finished and turned toward the staircase, glancing around the entrance once more before beginning to make their way up. A dim light let the way, and the source seemed to be coming from the crack in the doorway to their flat. John frowned slightly at this, but didn’t pause as he kept up with Sherlock’s quick pace to their quarters.

As they stepped aside, both of them raised their eyebrows in a comical mix of emotions. 

Lestrade and Anderson, both still clad in their black uniforms, were seated in their chairs; both of them with their heads resting at an odd angle as if they had fallen asleep several hours ago. Anderson snorted briefly with the noise of the door closing, but then his head only lolled to the other side with a brief sigh of fatigue. 

John slowly shook his head, his face remaining neutral for a brief moment before a smile touched his lips. 

“Well then…I guess that takes care of the report.” The doctor said, smiling acceptingly at Sherlock before he shook his head again and raised up his hands in defeat. “That does it then. We’d better get some sleep as well.” 

Sherlock nodded, the glowing embers from the fireplace reflecting off of his face as he looked at the two sleeping detectives. John glanced up at him again as if to wrap up the night, and Sherlock’s eyes squinted just slightly as the doctor let out a breath of relief.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then, ‘Ben’.” John said with a pointed smile, tilting his head briefly before looking at the two detectives as well. “I guess we’ll have to keep those names until they relieve us of them. Have I mentioned-“

As John turned toward the detective, Sherlock’s lips abruptly pressed against his. 

It was a quiet, gentle kiss that enveloped his lips in a soft insistence…the smell of smoke and perfume barely touching his nose even as they both let out a slow breath. The firelight flickered off of Sherlock’s dark eyes as they parted, the hand that had moved to the back of his head slowly descending as the moment passed. 

_“Goodnight, Tony.”_ Sherlock said in a low voice, his thumb moving to briefly caress John’s jaw before he straightened, moving past the doctor to the door just to the side of the kitchen.

John did not move from where he stood in the sitting room, his jaw slowly cocking to the side as Sherlock’s footsteps moved out of earshot. The sound of a closing door followed, and it was only then that he let out a short breath of disbelief and shook his head. 

_“Well a bloody goodnight to you too.”_

*


End file.
